top of page


“They’re coming,” he whispers. 

At midnight I hear the howling. 

I can’t tell from where or how far.

It sounds like your voice. 

It wakes me from a dream.

Drifting between cycles with four-legged

Silhouettes blurred in my vision.

I close my eyes and he tells me to run. 

He says if we split up maybe we can split the pack

Maybe then we’ll have a chance.

I run, but fate's tampering hand holds me tight by the collar

And our paths converge again, back where we started.

We wait in the dark on a moonless night,

Softly he sings his requiem, tells me

How he lived with one foot in the grave 

And that dying wouldn’t change a thing.

That if we bled ourselves dry, burned our clothes and fled the city

They’d still find us.

We wait in the dark and i listen to the sound 

Of his breathing--a solemn countdown.

I tie a thread from his wrist to mine to stay tethered while he’s underground. 

He tightens the knots i made, tells me

Nothing stays buried forever.

Not really.

At midnight we hear the howling. 

It grows louder, closer.

“They’re coming,” he whispers.

We howl along with them.

Recent Posts

See All
bottom of page